Coco:Second Chances in a Second Life
by 444teme444
Summary: "You go home my way or no way!" Mama Imelda was true to her word. But sadly, it was not the part she had intended. Miguel Rivera had lost his chance to be a musician and his chance at a full life. Now his only hope of ever getting back to the Land of the Living and making peace with his family, lay in the hands of a young girl, who had lost the most precious thing she ever owned
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there. It has been a while since I did this**

 **I saw Coco recently and loved the hell out of it. I highly recommend it to anyone who is a fan of Pixar, though if you're reading this, that would probably be redundant.**

 **Anywho, an idea for a story came to me and I decided to try and to try it out, hoping that it might help get back into writing again, which I've slacked off these past few months due to work. Got to say, I had lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy reading.**

 ** ** **Basically, this is story where Miguel didn't receive his blessing and was lost in the Land of the Dead. The main idea behind it, was the fact that Mama Imdela wouldn't let him go back unless it was her own way, so what if there was some serious consequences to her decisions? I also, threw in an idea I had for a OC, to help craft a full length story, rather than a one shot******

 **Can't help but feel like this is too long for a first chapter, but a lot of it is just setting up the story. Next chapters may vary, and I can't make any real guarantees of when I update again, though I will try to get the second chapter out soon. Also, I want to apologize in advance for any Spanish speakers who may read this, as I did include some bits of Spanish for certain characters. I tried to be as accurate as I could, but Spanish isn't my first language, so if anyone feels I did anything poorly, I want to apologize**

 **So, without any further procrastination, on to the story**

* * *

Coco: Second Chances in a Second Life

Quiet. Simple, peaceful quiet

Few people understood or appreciated the serenity and ambiance of total silence. For most people, everything of interest in life had to be defined or measured by how loud, how eloquent, soothing or terrifying it sounded. Sound is a neglected sense, but it's the first one people turn to when they want to understand the world around them. But what most people didn't realise was that in the absence of sound, everything was still and calm.

There was no rhythm, no creative flair, no spontaneity. No bumps or flows or waves or edges or curves. No thought or feeling. No worry or fear. No joy or pain. No hope or love, no dreams or regret. Past or future. Not really even a present. Just the world being played to a serene and perpetual tone of nothing. A great wide, endless and encompassing ocean of silence, where the soul can merely float away forever.

"Koko?

With a sudden jolt to her left leg, Koko Kioku felt her mind pull back from her personal anechoic chamber and back to reality that surrounded her. Blinking her eyes open, the first thing Koko saw was the concerned face of her mother, turned around in her car seat to check up on her twelve year old daughter's welfare. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a muffled sound. Seeing her daughter's confusion, Mrs Kioku made a pointing gesture to her own ears.

With great reluctance, Koko did as her mother wanted and removed her noise cancelling headphones, which she had been wearing for the majority of the trip. The headphones were not hooked up to any phone or cd player. One might call them an overzealous accessory, but to Koko, they were a means for her to dampen out the humdrum buzzing that was constantly around her and reduce it to nothing but a slightly more bearable humming. And as soon as she took her headphones off, the first thing her ears were greeted to, was the sound of a boisterous and obnoxious song being played over the radio.

" _Remember me! Though I have to travel far, remember me!"_

"I said, we're going to be there soon" her mother said, raising her voice above the music. "Ok, sweetheart?"

"Yes, mother" she said unenthusiastically. It hadn't even been a full minute yet and she was already missing the peace of her headphones, her ears starting to ache from the song.

"Uh, I hate music" she muttered in disgust, pulling her knit cap down over her brow.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" her father asked, glancing back her at in the rear-view mirror.

"Nothing" she mumbled, just loud enough to keep him from following up with another question.

"Honey, do you think you could turn that down?" Mrs Kioku asked her husband, while indicating to the radio, being slightly more conscious of their daughter's current state, and coincidently because she was also starting to find the music annoying, as opposed to her husband.

"It's a classic" Mr Kioku defended. "Besides, this is the hometown of one of the world's most famous musicians. Everyone in Santa Cecilia loves music. Now, if we could just find the inn".

Koko sighed again and adjusted herself in the back seat of the car. She peered out the window, as she saw buildings now coming into view, meaning they weren't far from their arrival. A little less than a week ago, Koko and her parents were living in their home in LA. But her father had decided that it was time for them to finally time to take their long-planned family vacation, to get away from work and obligations. There were some lengthy debates on where they should go prior to making the arrangements, until they ultimately decided to visit what perhaps was the odd child of popular tourist destinations; Mexico

After setting all their nesscessary affairs in order, they had taken a flight in from L.A. to Mexico City, where they had spent their first night. The following morning, they rented a suitable car and began to travel around the country side, seeing many of the famous and popular tourist locations. Their next such destination was the town of Santa Cecilia. It was somewhat of a remote location, but it was a popular tourists' destination nonetheless due to it being the home to one of Mexico's famous musicians, Ernesto De la Cruz, who, appropriately enough, was currently singing to the Kioku family over the radio, from beyond the grave.

Koko cringed heavily as the song continued playing, sinking further into the upholstery of the back seat. She made no objection to this trip but showed no real enthusiasm either. The companions she had this trip was her family, that consisted of her mother and father.

Mrs Kioku was Caucasian woman, with a tall, slender, well-toned figure for a body. Her hair was black, almost silk like, and was tied up into a bun at the back of her head, giving a full view of her face.

Mr Kioku, unlike his wife, was of Japanese descent. His face appeared to be that of a man younger than what he was, though with strong features reminiscent of his heritage. Like his wife, he had black hair, cut in a short manner, and prominent goatee, that despite his wife's sincerest efforts, he wouldn't shave off.

Koko herself had inherited a mixture of her parent's traits. At best she resembled her mother, though not without some faint traits of her Asian features, particularly along her cheeks and eyes, which only served to help complement her appearance. Unlike her mother, she let her hair hang loose at the back and wore a knit cap on the top of her head.

Though she wasn't at all vain or shallow over her how she looked, many people would consider her beautiful, or at the very least, on the cusp of becoming beautiful. But right now, at this moment, she appeared nothing melancholy and chest fallen, as though she had long forgotten what joy was supposed to look like.

They had been on the road for a few hours now, leaving early in the morning. They arrived town and now they were busy trying to find the local inn where they had hoped to spend the night.

"Look, they said back at the gas station, there was an inn here and that it was this way" Mr Kioku said to wife. "We'll find it"

"They also said half of it in Spanish and the other half through bad charades" Mrs Kioku retorted. "Look, we're just going to have to stop and ask someone for directions. And I know, it'll bruise your ego, being a man and all"

"Are you actually going to into a stereotype about men not wanting to ask for directions?" Mr Kioku asked wife.

"Should I, instead, go into a stereotype of what a bad driver you are?" Mrs Kioku asked him, with a wryly smile.

Mr Kioku glanced at wife with an indignant look, before rolling his eyes in a sign of defeat, not having the energy to put up with her teasing after having been on the road for so long.

The car continued down a cobbled stone street. Up ahead, there was a large crowd of people crossing the street. Approaching the crowd, Mr Kioku dabbed his foot on the brakes, as the crowd was almost clear, though perhaps not quick enough as they came very close to bumping into an old woman of short stature who walked out on the road at the very last second.

"Oi! Mira a dónde vas gringo!" she yelled angrily, brandishing her fist at the car.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mr Kioku called out, rolling down his window so that the woman could hear him. The radio's music now blared out loudly from the car. The old woman perked up as soon as the Mr Kioku poke his head of the window. She walked around the front of the car and approached Mr Kioku as he spoke to her.

"We were just looking for the Casa de Bienvenida Inn" he said to the old woman, both polite and respectful. "Would you happen to know where that-?"

"Sin musica!"

Before Mr Kioku could finish his question, the old woman suddenly pulled off one of her slippers and promptly smacked him across the face with it, with enough force that you'd swear she had just stuck him with a baseball bat

Mrs Kioku and her daughter both stared at this abrupt act of violence in complete shock, neither of them having idea what had just happened. Normally in these types of situations, the old woman might have been holding a gun or a knife instead of a tattered slipper, though she appeared no less threatening with it.

Mr Kioku rubbed in his face, stunned, but not visibly angry by the woman's actions, believing there may have be a simply miscommunication.

"Um, I'm sorry, I don't understand-"

"I said, no music!" she screamed even louder at him in full English. The old woman winded her arm up for another swing. Mr Kioku quickly raised his hands up to shield himself from the assault the old woman's slipper whipping. Fearing for his safely and to a lesser extent, his family, Mr Kioku hurriedly pulled his window back up and slam his foot hard on the accelerator, the car taking off at full speed, wanting to put as much distance between him, that woman and her slipper as possible.

The car sped down the empty road and rounded a corner before it finally came to stop beside a large truck. Breathing heavily, Mr Kioku turned off the engine of the car, his hands gripping the wheel tightly and looking as though he just stared down the barrel of a gun. Steadying himself again, he switched off the engine of the car. After a moment, he glanced over to his wife, who had remained stock quiet since the ordeal began.

Mrs Kioku looked back at her husband with a blank expression of shock, before her mouth twitched into a crooked smile and immediately she burst out into a fit of uncontrolled laughing. She laughed so hard, that she literally grabbed her own sides and threw her head, as she started doubling over in pain. Slowly overcoming his shellshock, Mr Kioku let out a shaky chuckle, quickly becoming infected by the hilarity of the situation and joined his wife in laughter. In the back seat of the car, Koko was the only who didn't laugh, but she couldn't help but managed a small smile of her own, at the sound of hearing her parents laugh together.

After a few minutes of solid laughter, the excitement in the car died down once again. Mr Kioku was the first to recollect himself. "Okay, I guess not _everyone_ in Santa Celiclo is a music fan"

"You know, I think before we left, one of my students warned me to watch out for any angry abuelita's with a slipper" Mrs Kioku said in between her gasps for breath.

"Abuelita?" Mr Kioku repeated.

"It's Spanish for grandmother" she explained. "You know, like an oba-chan."

"Don't recall my oba-chan ever hitting me like that" Mr Kioku said, rubbing his cheek, which was now turning distinctly red. "Okay, new rule. We stay a hundred yards away from anyone holding a slipper"

"Duly noted" Mrs Kioku replied. "But we still need to find that inn".

"Good point" Mr Kioku replied with a straight face. He pressed down on a button on the side of his car door, which rolled down the window on his wife's side of the car. Mrs Kioku glanced from the window to her husband, giving him a curious look.

" _You_ are asking the next person for directions" he said, with the utmost seriousness

* * *

After finally arriving at the Casa de Bienvenida Inn and parking their rented car out in the parking lot, Mr Kioku met with the front-end receptionist, obtaining a room and key. The Kioku family then carted their luggage upstairs and entered their two-bedroom apartment up on the second floor of the inn. It wasn't what you might call a five-star hotel, but certainly liveable, with beds, a bathroom and TV. And the Kioku family was not the type that was prone to wanting any kind of superficial lifestyle.

Settling in, Mr and Mrs Kioku began to unpack their bags, sorting out their clothes and other travel belongings out one of the bed.

"So, what should we do first?" Mr Kioku asked his wife, lifting out some of his folded shirts onto the bed.

"Well first I want to do, is go check out that art gallery they have in town" Mrs Kioku replied, her excitement clearly evident in her voice. "It's supposed to have some paintings by Frida Khalo herself. They say it's some of her most obtrusive works from when she in her eccentric period

"Honey, you don't think that maybe she was always kinda… eccentric" Mr Kioku said, never really having shared his wife's passion for some questionable forms of art.

"Which one of us teaches the art class and which one is a financial manager?" Mrs Kioku replied sarcastically, a challenging look in her eyes.

"Fine, whatever" Mr Kioku said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "But afterwards, I think we should go by the cemetery and have a look at Ernesto De la Cruz tomb. Also, they're supposed to be setting up that festival for Dia de los Murtos tomorrow evening"

"Well, we're here for a couple of days, so let's be sure to see what we can. Is there anything you'd like to do Koko? Koko?"

Mr and Mrs Kioku turned their heads to the other side of the room, where saw that Koko was sitting up on one of the chairs, her legs pulled up to her chest and her headphones wrapped around her ears once again.

Sharing a concerned and knowing glance with each other, both Mr and Mrs Kioku ceased their organising to focus on their daughter. With a determined stride, Mr Kioku crossed the room to where Koko was sitting and unceremoniously plucked the headphones off her head from behind her chair.

"Hey!" she said, looking up at her father.

"Koko, we've talked about this" he said, his voice consolingly, but no less firm. He waved her headphones in the air. "You can't keep wearing these things all the time. You need to start getting out again. That's the whole point of taking a vacation"

Koko sighed and slide further down into the seat. "And what exactly am I supposed to do?" she mumbled into her chest, with her face half hidden under her cap.

"You could start by trying out some of the local food" her father suggested, not hiding his own earnest at the prospect. "Despite what some people might say, Mexico has some of the best cuisine in the world. Food teaches you a lot about a culture. Why don't we go out together and see what we can find?"

"Dad, I'm not hungry and I really don't feel like going out" Koko said with great difficulty, the very idea of going back outside leaving her uneasy. "It's just…. too noisy. Please, I like the quiet"

Mr Kioku sighed again, and rubbed his eyes wearily, doing his best to keep his patience. "Koko, we're not having this discussion again. You have to-"

Before things had the chance to escalate, Mrs Kioku swiftly positioned herself between her daughter and husbanding, while giving him a slight look to restraint himself. Knowing right away what she trying to do, Mr Kioku took a step back to allow his wife to take over for him. Satisfied, Mrs Kioku bent down on her knees and rested her chin on the arm of the chair, looking directly at Koko, who was avoiding her gaze.

"Koko, your father and I are going out for a while" she said gently. "If you like come with us you can. Or if you don't feel up to it, why don't stay here and get some sleep, ok, sweetheart? Then later, we can talk about doing something together as a family"

"Yes, mother" Koko replied softly, avoiding her mother's eyes.

Mrs Kioku smiled and gave her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead before standing back up.

"We'll be back soon. And remember". Mrs Kioku raised her hand, revealing a red string tied around her wrist. Mr Kioku pulled up his sleeve to reveal a red string on his own wrist. Still unable to look at either of her parents, Koko merely raised up her own wrist in a half-hearted response, her string just visible.

Satisfied, her parents were about to walk out the door. Just as her father pasted by her, Koko made a brief gesture with her hand as her father passed, thinking her may give back her headphones, but he instead pulled out of her reach and held them in the air.

"You get these, when we get back" he said sternly, placing the headphones inside his wife's purse. as she watched her parents leave the room.

Koko slumped her head down at the arm of the chair, looking even more glum than before. She rubbed her right ear yearningly, already missing the comfort of her headphones. With nothing better to do and lacking the energy to find something better to do, she got up off the chair and trudged her way over to the second bed. As soon as she was closed enough, she let her legs give way and flopped herself face first into the pillow.

Sleep was the next best thing to quiet, but she couldn't remember the last time she had gone to sleep without her headphones. For a while now, it had been getting hard to remember what sleep was and wasn't, as though she had passing by everything in a haze these past few weeks. Still, the pillow was soft press against her head and the fragment smell of mint was quite relaxing. Only a few minutes passed before Koko slowly felt herself beginning to drift off into peaceful slumber

" _Remember me! Though I have to travel far, remember me!"_

As though a bomb had just gone off in the room, Koko was jolted out of the bed and onto the floor with a solid thud, panic and fear catching her by surprise. Pushing herself back and rubbing her sore head, Koko looked over to the far end of the room, where she could hear the sound of someone singing the exact song her father had been listening to on the radio just before they arrived, coming loud and clearly from the room adjacent to their, through the walls, which Koko was certain must be structurally unsound in someway if they were that thin.

All her previous drowsiness now gone, and replaced by severe irritation, Koko got to her feet and exited the room. She saw the door to the room next to theirs left ajar, the music emitting from within. Pushing the door open, Koko was greeted by the sight of a massive backside, which belonged to plump, yet very lively maid, who was listening to music playing over portable radio set up on the counter by the bed, while simultaneously vacuuming the floor of the empty room. She hadn't taken any notice of Koko when she entered the room, her eyes closed shut as she hummed along to the tune of the song.

"Um, excuse me, could you please turn that off?" Koko said. "I'm trying to-".

The maid however, didn't hear a word Koko was saying, as the sound of both the radio and vacuum was drowning everything else out. The maid soon became more and more embroiled with the music as she began to sing out loud, and very off tune, mixing her dance moves with the sliding of her vacuum cleaner across the floor.

"Excuse me! Could you please-!?" Koko practically beginning to shout, but once she saw the maid now beginning to shake her excessively large and jiggly rear end in a manner that one would most certainly only do in private, she soon realised that this wasn't worth the effort, nor the nightmares that were sure to follow this evening if she continued looking.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, both at situation and the irony of it, Koko decided to follow her father's advice and go out for some sightseeing, albeit under an extreme case of coercion. Returning to the room, she put on her jacket and her favourite knit cap, while also being sure to take the spare room key her parents had left her. She couldn't help but feel her neck tingle without the weight of her headphones.

Once she was ready, Koko left the room, and being sure to take the route opposite from where the maid was cleaning, she trotted down the stairs of the inn and started walking, not really caring where she went, just being sure it was far away that she could no longer hear that song.

Koko continued to walk aimlessly, passing by numerous buildings and a concession stands that lined up the sides of the streets. But the further and further she walked, the more and more uncomfortable she began to feel, as she the chorus of everyday life all around her ring out all around her. Feet trampling, people shouting, doors banging, horns blaring, dogs barking, glass breaking, bells chiming, birds chirping, whistles blowing. Noises upon noises upon noise. Nothing but decibels and resonates that endlessly bounced and echoed off each receiver, no telling when something began or ended

Koko couldn't stand any of it. She began to feel the deep nausea building up her stomach, her head beginning to ache and her ears straining from the pounding of every racket, jangle and clutter that she passed by. Every time she heard something, she couldn't help but feel like she was being attacked in some way. Like a salvo on the battlefield. Sometimes she thought that the noise itself was alive, with the physical intent of wanting to hurt her as it passed through her body.

All that she wanted was a quiet, empty place where she wouldn't have to think or feel anything, where her mind could go clear again, and where she wouldn't have to dwell on her own feelings.

Eventually, it seemed as though her prayers had been answered, when she found a large plaza in the middle of the town, which was virtually deserted of people, aside from some locals who were setting up decorations. In the centre of the plaza was an iron statue of a man in sombrero and guitar in his hands, which Koko had no doubt must be the famous Ernesto de la Cruz himself.

Still, it was the quietest place she had found yet. Koko wasted no time in taking a seat on an empty bench next to the statue and took a deep inhale of breath to relax herself again. She closed her eyes and began to enjoy the brief solace, her nausea and headache slowly subsiding

" _Remember me! Though I have to travel far, remember me!"_

Koko jumped up in fright and snapped d her eyes open again. She was now face to face with four extravagantly dressed men wearing sombreros, each of them playing a different musical instrument. She knew enough about Mexican culture to know, that this had to a musicians group known as a mariachi band who played for both tourists and locals. And right now, Koko had the unfortune pleasure of having to listen to them sing the same irritating song that everyone in this town seemed to be obsessed with.

" _And each time you hear a sad guitar, know that I'm with the only way I can be! Remember me!"_

Koko stared at the them with a queasy expression, their voices ringing out in unison. She tried opening in mouth in a feeble attempt to ask them to stop, but she couldn't even muster enough strength to that, as the sound of their music was already overwhelming. And it didn't really help that she was beginning to really, _really_ hate that stupid song.

Koko stood up from the bench and made move to leave, but was quickly intercepted by another pair of singers, one of them holding a large trumpet, which they blew hard right in Koko's direction. Now practically surrounding Koko, the band continue playing, the merriment of their own craft apparently making them oblivious to the discomfort they were causing her.

As they reached their crescendo, their voice hitting that final note of 'Remember me', Koko growled in rage and covered both her ears, almost wishing she could rip them off, rather than listen to anymore music or anyone else asking to be remembered.

Keeping her hands over her ears, she managed to push her way past the mariachi band, who continued singing, and did nothing as she ran straight out of the plaza and down the nearest street, before ducking into alleyway.

Releasing her ears once again, Koko slumped up against the wall and crossed her arms, again feeling exhausted. Groaning heavily, she slid her back down the wall, resting herself on the ground. She hated this. She hated this feeling. She hated having to listen to people try and sound so cheerful. It just made her feel sick.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes again, wishing more than anything she had her headphones again. She pulled her cap down over her eyes and cup her ears with her hands, hoping to mimic the sensation of isolation once again. She felt she could no longer bear the persistent and excessive static of the rest of the world any longer. She just wished everything around her would fade away.

 _Thud!_

For what must have been the umptieth time today, Koko's moment of solace was snatched away from her when she felt something very heavy land on top of her head and jump off again.

Koko pulled her cap off and looked up to see what had hit her. At first, she thought it was some kind of cat, but she was mistaken. Based on its features, Koko could see that it was a fox, though not like any fox she had seen before. It had a long tail and ears, yet it's fur was grey and looked very small, not that much bigger than an actual cat. But it eyes appeared excessively large, like great orbs of black ink trapped in a bubble.

The fox took a tentatively step toward Koko and sniffed the air between them. Koko immediately tensed up, not making any sudden movements, keeping eyes trained on the fox. She had read enough books in school to know that wild animals in any country could be dangerous at a moment's notice, no matter how innocent they might appeared. She glanced to the end of the alley, readying herself to move if needed.

But then something strange happened. As if it had been able to sense Koko's fear, the fox stopped in its tracks and sat back on its heed legs, standing up perfectly straight, like a well-trained dog. Surprised, Koko had no idea what to make of it. She stared into the foxes deep brown eyes, she could swear it was someone trying to hypnotise her. The fox cocked its head to the side and lowered its ears, as it continued looking at her. Frankly, it actually looked pretty damn adorable.

"Um, hello there" she said, for lack of any formal greeting. The fox remained stationary. It then lowered itself to the ground, lying flat on its stomach. Koko still had no idea what to make of it, but she could feel her guard being lowered, as the fox didn't seem to pose any danger.

Getting down on all fours, Koko slowly crawled over to the fox who remained where it was. Resting back on her heels, Koko and the fox merely looked at each other, as though waiting for the other to make the first move. Koko carefully stretched her hand out to the fox, who briefly sniffed it. Feeling more confident, Koko slowly brought her hand down to the fox's head and very pet it lightly.

Then it happened. In the blink of an eye, the fox lunged its head at her wrist and snapping its teeth into sleeve. Alarmed, Koko let out a tiny cry and pulled her arm back from the fox, who instantly backed away from her.

Koko examined her wrist for injury. At first, she was relieved when she saw no bite marks on her flesh, only to realise what was truly amiss. She turned back to the fox. Hanging inside of its mouth, was the red string her mother had given her to wear around her wrist.

Maybe it was just the sheer bizarreness of the situation or the brief burst of adrenaline she was feeling, but Koko now felt something red hot bubbling inside of her, a feeling of genuine anger that was more intense than anything she had felt in a long while.

"Give that back!" Koko snapped at the fox. She lunged toward the fox, but it swiftly hopped around her and jumped on top of a nearby crate.

Koko stared at the fox, who stared back at her pensively, the red string still dangling from its lip. She couldn't help but feel it was taunting her. Narrowing her eyes, she made another grabbed at the fox who jumped off the box and ran down the alley way. Growing more frustrated, yet still determined, Koko scrambled to her feet and gave chase to the fox.

The fox kept a consistent pace ahead of Koko, as it practically gilding it was through the winding alley way. Koko lost briefly lost sight of it as it rounded a corner. When she caught up to the corner, she saw that alley diverged into a number of different paths ahead of her. Glancing down each path, looking for some sense of which one to take, Koko spotted the fox out of the corner of her eye, sitting on top of a wooden fence that the end of one of the paths.

Strangely, the fox waited patiently on top of the fence as Koko sprinted toward it. Only when she was about to reach the fence, did it jump off to the other side. Once she was close enough, Koko managed to jump up and grab the top of the fence with her hands. Hoisting herself up, she swung her right leg over the fence and planted her foot on thin wooden boards. Using it as leverage, she pulled herself over the fence, and brought her other knee on top. But then she felt something snap under her right foot, forcing her to slide down the fence and on to the ground, pieces of wood falling behind her.

Wincing hard, Koko pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling a sharp pain radiating in her knee. Checking for any bleeding, she saw to her relief that it wasn't cut. Breathing still rapid, Koko did a quick survey of her surroundings and saw that she had been brought back out onto the street, right beside a flower shop that was next to the fence she had climbed over, situated on at the top of a small incline. There were dozens of people around her, browsing the other shops and stands, none of them taking notice the young girl who had just come over the fence.

Koko's eyes continued to scan the area, but she couldn't see any sign of the fox anywhere. Her breathing slowly coming back to normal, the excitement wearing off, Koko couldn't help but feel incredibly stupid. She couldn't tell if it was because she let the fox get away or because she actually chased after it in the first place.

Deflated, she got back to her feet, but then noticed something else. Lifting up her right foot, she looked down and saw that the outer sole of her canvas shoe had been severely ripped at her heel, likely when the fence broke out from under her. The rubber piece of the sole was barely hanging on by a thread.

Koko groaned wearily at the sight of it, no longer having the will to get upset or angry. Now feeling tired again, Koko elected to head back to the inn, hoping that the maid had finished her cleaning so that she could have sleep.

Walking past the front of the flower, she rounded the corner, looking around to see if she could a bearing on her location, but then came to an abrupt stop just before she nearly collided with something big laid out right in front of her path that she failed to notice.

Sitting out on the pavement beside the flower shop, underneath the hot sun, was weaver basket wheelchair and sitting inside that wheelchair, was an old, _extremely_ old looking woman. So old in fact, Koko wagered that she could very well be pushing a hundred.

The elderly woman made no sound or acknowledgement of Koko's presence next to her. Her eyes were closed, her head hanging low and mouth slightly gaped open, her breathing raspy and barely audible. Her wide face appeared so wrinkled, it may never have been smooth to begin with and her hair was a grey as ash, tied up in a ponytail. She appeared be almost entirely detached from reality, and it unlikely she had any idea who or where she was.

Koko glanced around the street and into the window of the shop. There didn't appear to be anyone supervising this woman and she certainly didn't look as though she could go anywhere under her own power.

Though she knew it was probably rude for to gawk at this woman, Koko couldn't help but feel a terrible swelling of pity form in the base of her chest, to see someone look so defeated, empty and alone. For a fleeting moment, Koko felt a compelling urge to speak to her, to comfort her in some way, but she felt herself being held back at by another twisted feeling in her stomach bubbling in her stomach. A feeling she couldn't really describe yet was disturbed by its effect on her.

Suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, Koko decided that it was best to move and leave the elderly woman be. She carefully stepped around the wheelchair, making sure to put a wide breath between it and her. After making it around, Koko sighed in relief, hoping to put it out of her mind. But then out of nowhere, something small and fast ran past her feet, catching Koko by surprised, forcing her to instinctively back up and bump right into the wheelchair that was behind her.

Hearing the creaking of the wheels, Koko turned to see the wheelchair and its helpless occupant being propelled forward off the footpath, reaching the slope of the hill the street was on and then begin to speed down toward the road at the bottom

Koko watched in horror as the wheelchair gained momentum rolling down the hill and was heading for a collision course with the bust traffic on the road. Somewhere nearby, Koko heard a woman's voice cry out 'Mama!'.

Without any time to think, Koko ran after the wheelchair, sprinting as fast she could, despite the broken heel on her shoe, managing to catch up to the chair and grabbing it by the handle bars as it was halfway down the hill. Using every bit of her strength and weight, her heels skidding against the pavement, Koko pulled back on the wheelchair and successfully bringing to a halt, just less than an inch from rolling out onto the road and into the path of oncoming truck that sped right on by. The elderly woman in the wheelchair didn't even so much as flinch as the truck whipped right past her.

With considerable effort, Koko managed to pull the wheelchair back onto the footpath, far enough that she was certain in wouldn't roll off when she released the handle. A small crowd of onlookers had formed around them, drawn to the commotion and checking to see if anyone had been hurt.

"Are - are you alright?" Koko asked the old woman in the chair, who had not screamed or cried out during the entire event. Given the blank, expressionless face she was still wearing, Koko was quite certain that her mind was gone altogether.

But then, to Koko's surprise, something changed. The old woman's eyes twitched slightly until she finally opened them, as though she just woke up from a nap. She raised her head up and turned to look directly at Koko, allowing her to probably see a shade of her hazel eyes beneath her wrinkled face. The old woman looked at Koko and then let out a wide smile that beautifully lit her entire face up as though the sun itself was shining upon it for the first time in decades.

"Ah. You have a such a beautiful voice" she said warmly.

Koko stared abashedly back at the woman, unsure how to respond to such a statement. She was soon brought out of her of stupor when she heard someone nearby calling out her name.

"Coco! Coco! Mama Coco!"

The crowd of people gathered around Koko and the elderly woman, parted ways as another, shorter, slightly younger looking, but nevertheless old woman came pushing her way past them, followed closely by a large man in a cowboy hat, who spluttering out of breath. Koko quickly backed away as the short woman, rushed over to woman in the wheelchair and fidgetily began to check her for any signs of injury. Given her attentive nature, Koko assumed that she must be the old woman's relative or caretaker.

"Oh Mama, I was so worried about you" she said, patting her hands gently. "I'm here now, Mama". As Koko watched the shorter woman consoled her still unfazed mother, she couldn't help but get the impression that she had seen the shorter woman somewhere before.

The man in the cowboy hat, who still panting heavily and clutching lower left abdomen, approached the two women, looking just as concerned.

"Is she alright?" he asked the shorter woman. The short woman turned to with him with a dangerous snarl.

"You stupdio! I told you to watch Mama Coco while I got the pedals from across the other shop across the street. You-you!"

Screaming out something undoubtedly profane in Spanish, the short woman pulled off one of her slippers and began to furiously beat the larger man with it, who recoiled from her in fear. Koko felt a deep sense of dread in the back of her head, as she now realised where she had seen this woman before. Less than an hour ago, beating her own father with the same slipper.

"I'm sorry abuelita!" the man cried helplessly. "I just took my eyes off her for a second! I had to use the restroom behind the liquor store. I couldn't hold it anymore"

This didn't placate the Abulitea's anger, who threw out more curses in Spanish and continued to beat the large man with her slipper for almost a solid minute of endless whacking, until he looked to be on the verge of tears. Only when she was finished, did she finally take notice of Koko standing next to them, turned to face her with an angry growl, slipper still in hand. Koko tensed up and raised her hands up to her chest, half expecting herself to be next one on the receiving end of the slipper.

"You" Abulitea whispered, after a long moment, staring wide eyed at Koko and lowering her slipper. "You saved my Mama Coco"

"Well…uh….I mean….kinda?" Koko replied feebly.

The terrifying anger that Abulieta had been carrying a moment ago, dissolved away almost instantly. She tossed her slipper to the side and cupped her hands together. Her entire demeanour had changed, transforming into such an innocent old woman, looking so sweet and nurturing, that you'd swear she couldn't hurt fly and the idea of even suggesting it would be laughable.

"Oh, mi amor, you are an angel!" she said with unbridled joy, her eyes practically brimming with tears

"What? Oh, no, I'm not-See I was just trying to catch a fox and that, um-". Koko's next words didn't make out of her mouth, as the Abuelita had clasped her entire face into her hands and pulled her in closer, planting kisses on every bit of her exposed skin that her lips could reach.

Koko let out a stifled gasp once she had been freed, rubbing her now crimson cheeks in embarrassment. She almost would have rather have had the slipper instead. Abuelita turned to her mother, still as joyous as ever.

"Oh, Mama Coco, this beautiful young girl saved you" she said. "You should thank her"

"Gracias, mija" Mama Coco said directly to Koko.

Abulita's entire face went slack jawed these words. It became clear from the way she was looking at her Mama Coco, that she had not actually been expecting her to answer. In fact, she seemed to be surprised that her mother had the ability to speak at all. What's more is that Mama Coco was no longer haggard and lifeless as she did before. She too was wearing a perpetual, happy smile, which was aimed right at Koko, who squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Mama? You spoke...?" Abulitea turned her head back and forth between Koko and her own Mama Coco. She seemed almost unable to comprehend her own shock.

"Mama Coco hasn't spoken to anyone since…not since…" she whispered

 _Oh no._

Koko just barely had enough time to brace herself, before Abuelita grabbed her again and gave her yet another barrage of kisses.

"Oh, you truly must be an angel!" she said, squeezing the Koko cheeks as tightly. "You saved my Mama Coco and you made her smile again! What can I do to repay you?"

"Nothing" Koko said quickly, breaking away from the Abuelita, not wanting to received anymore praise. "I'm sorry for troubling you, but I think should go find my parents before they-"

Koko took a single step back and nearly tripped on her own foot. Glancing down at her shoe, she soon recalled the damage she had sustained earlier. For a moment, she thought maybe this would make the perfect excuse to escape, but the moment Abuelita saw her shoe, she soon learned how wrong she was.

"Aiya! You can't go anywhere wearing shoes like _that_!" Abuelita said now sounding both stern and appalled, eyeing Koko's shoes with a kind of professional contempt. "You will come with me and we will get those fixed for you"

"But-" Koko began

"No buts!" Abuelita said, in a very no-nonsense tone of voice. She took a firm hold of Koko's wrist and began to pull her along helplessly, with a strength that would certainly complemented her slipper wielding hand.

* * *

Koko sat awkwardly on the wooden bench inside the courtyard of the Rivera home, the hot stone ground prickling her now bare feet. She hadn't been able to read the sign above the entrance as she was being dragged but she never would have guess that it stood for shoemaker of all things or that Abuelita, who insisted on fixing her shoes, actually ran a shoe making business. Despite her best efforts, she wasn't able to argue back as she pulled her canvas shoes off her feet and took them away for repairs.

Koko groaned heavily, feeling extremely embarrassed by the entire situation. She briefly thought about slipping away but realised she wouldn't make it far in a sun baked town without any shoes or socks.

After a few minutes of waiting Abuelita reappeared again, carrying a small plate with some kind of roll on it.

"Here you go" she said, happily, offering the piece of food to Koko. "I made you my special tamale"

"Um, not really hungry" Koko said, not even sure if she wanted to eat it.

"I said, I made you some tamales!" Abueltia repeated, giving Koko an unamused look.

"Yes, ma'am" Koko said at once, accepting the plate

"That's what I thought you said" Abueltia smiled. "So, tell me. What's your name, mija?"

"Koko" she replied, picking up tamale off the plate.

"Oh, Mama Coco is fine" Abuelita said sweetly.

"No, no. My name is Koko" Koko said. "With a k, I mean" she added after an awkward pause.

"Your name is Koko too?" Abuelita said, looking very surprised. She then let out a cheerful laugh. "That is beautiful. You save my Mama Coco and you have the same name as my Mama Coco. Oh, what a day this is"

It was then, that a moustached man, wearing a brown apron exited the main building of the compound and came over to where Koko and Abueltia were talking.

"Hola, Enrique" Abuelita greeted the man as he approached. "This is Koko. Koko, this is my son Enrique"

"Koko?" Enrique repeated quizzically.

"Si, si!" Abuelita laughed. "With a k! Can you believe that?"

"We'll have your shoes fixed by tomorrow" he said to Koko. He pulled out a pair of old looking sandals from the front pocket of his apron. "Here, you can wear these. They are my wife's old sandals, but they should do you fine for you to walk home"

"Thank you" Koko replied, taking the sandals from the man and slipping her feet inside them. Koko stood up, finding to her surprise that they fit quite well. She patted her pockets, quickly reminded that they were empty.

"Um, I don't really have money with me" she said, in a rather lame manner.

"Ah, don't worry about that" Enrique replied with a kind smile. "You pay for it tomorrow"

"She doesn't need to pay for anything!" Abuelita snapped at her son. "She saved Mama Coco's life"

"Of course, Mama" the man said placidly. He looked back to Koko. "You're a tourist aren't you, si?"

"Yes." Koko said. "My family is visiting here on vacation for a few days"

"Do you have any plans while you're here?" Enrique asked casually.

"Um, sightseeing" Koko said, with an indifferent shrug. "Go to an art gallery". She complemented the tamale in her hand. "Try out the local food"

"Then it's decided!" Abuelita said abruptly, clapping her hands together happily. "You and your family will be having dinner here with us tonight!"

"Mama!" Enrique exclaimed to his mother with a slight reproach.

"W-what?" Koko said in surprised. "Oh, no, that's really not nesscessary"

"I said, it is decided!" Abuelita snapped angrily, pointing her finger directly in Koko's face, which made her fall silent at once. She glanced dangerously over to her son, who made it clear he wasn't about to argue with her either. Seeing no resistance to her will, Abuelita immediately returned to her warm and kindly demeanour.

"Now, you run along mija" she said sweetly, lightly patting Koko on her cheek. "We'll see you again this evening. I'm sure Mama Coco will love to see you again"

"Sure thing" Koko said, giving up all hope this point, though she was still relieved to finally have the chance to slip away. Getting to her feet, Koko was about to head over to the gate where she had entered, but then pause and turned back to face Enrique and Abuelita

"Thank you for your hospitality" she said awkwardly, giving a low bow of her head to the two of them, who were taken aback slightly at such formal act, before she took off in a run toward the gate.

Just before she crossed the threshold of the gate, Koko spotted Mama Coco, sitting at the shade of the wall. She looked right her and was smiling tenderly. Koko held her gaze for a moment, thinking maybe she thought she could feign maybe even a small smile back her, but she found that she couldn't. Not wanting to risk anything happening, Koko ran off down the street, trying her best to get the image of Mama Coco's smile out of her mind.

* * *

 **Gotta say. Feel pretty proud of myself for getting all this done.**

 **Anywho, hope you all enjoyed the chapter and if you can, please leave a review and tell me what you though about it. I know more or less where this story is going, but I'm happy if you want to leave any ideas or suggestions. I'm also open to questions, though I may only answer them in the next chapter rather than PM.**

 **Thanks a lot for reading, I hoped you like the first chapter and that you'll stick around for the rest of the story (if I ever finish, so that may be a while)**

 **Thanks again for reading and peace out**


	2. Chapter 2

**First things first. A thank you to everyone that review, followed and favoured my story. So, unlike the previous chapter, this one focuses on Miguel. Initially I thought I'd just continued with the main story, but I decided that it was best in introduce Miguel sooner rather than later, as people would likely be asking about him.**

 **Also, to those that reviewed.**

 **Light:** Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter

 **katmar1994:** Well first they'll have dinner and see where they go from there

 **Right, now on with the story.**

* * *

Joy. Pure, unrestrained joy

There really was no other word to describe it. Joy was what Miguel Rivera felt course through body whenever he played music. Every part his body extended this joy. The brimming of words rolling off his tongue, the bristle of the guitar strings against the skin on his fingertips, the beating of his heart as it rose with the rhythm of the music. Nothing made him feel more alive. Which was about as ironic as a situation could get, for the simple fact that Miguel Rivera was dead.

He didn't have a throat. He didn't have skin on his fingers. And he mostly definitely didn't have a beating heart. He was a body without skin, fat, muscles, nerves or organs. All he was now, was the literally, walking, talking, and singing, skeleton of a 12-year-old boy, named Miguel Rivera. He was nothing whatsoever but bones, along with the red hoodie on his back, his blue jean, Chukka boots, and most distinguishably, the guitar in his arms that he was currently playing.

Perched on top of a small box, at the corner of a busy street, underneath an old-fashioned lamppost, Miguel strummed the strings of his guitar with his skinless fingers, serenading the passing crowd of fellow living skeletons, who walked along the pavement in front of him. Some of them continued on without stopping to listen, while others took a moment to appreciate the sound of Miguel's soft, yet impeccably melodious singing voice.

" _Well everyone knows Juanita. Her eyes each a different colour. Her teeth stick out and her chin goes in. And her knuckles, they drag on the floor_ "

Even to this day, Miguel still hadn't learned the real words to this song. And he couldn't help but feel that he was drawing a number of strange glances from some of skeletons as they passed him by while he sang the words. But he didn't really care. For him, being able to sing at all was still a blessing that he was thankful for. Of course, he still felt like he needed to get a necessity out of it.

Laid out on the ground in front of the box Miguel stood on, was a small, rusty old coffee can, that made an occasionally rattle each time one of the undead pedestrians would feel gracious and drop something into it. At the clatter of one such token being dropped in by a kindly looking skeleton lady, Miguel's loyal canine companion, Dante creeped over to the can and sniffed it curiously, perking up his ears and wagging his tail in excitement

If Miguel wasn't a typical boy, then Dante certainly wasn't a typical dog. Aside from his own personality flaws and general lack of intelligence, Dante was what was called an Alebrije. A creature of myth, that acted as a spirit guide for souls of the dead. Of course, even as far as spirits guides went, Dante was still an odd ball. Unlike other Alebrije that could take the forms of all of manner of creatures, Dante still looked like a plain old dog. The only difference being was his illuminous and multi-coloured coat of skin. Each appendage on his body, from his ears to legs, ranged from pink to yellow, with decorative markings that glowed as bright fireworks. The other unique feature about him, was a set of wings on his back, though they were so disproportionately tiny compared to his body, it didn't seem possible that they could lift him off the ground

Dante picked the can up in his mouth and eagerly brought it over to Miguel, who abruptly stopped singing when he noticed Dante bringing him the can. Stepping off his box, Miguel took the can from Dante and rewarded him with grateful rub on the head. He shook the can around a few times and stuck his hand inside, picking up a fistful what they had collected.

"Looks like a good take in today, boy" Miguel said, depositing the coins back into the can. "Now let's go find out how much it'll be worth"

Slinging the guitar over his shoulder, Miguel and Dante left their street corner and began their trek through the endless sea of the walking undead that lay out before them.

It had been almost one year ago, on Dia de los Muertos, that Miguel had been cursed for stealing his great-great-grandfather's guitar. One year since he had travelled to the Land of the Dead to receive a blessing from his family so that he could undo the curse. And one year since he had lost his chance to return home.

When he realised that he would never return to the Land of the Living, the feelings that he experienced, where hard to put into words. The shock, the horror, the unfairness. The unrelenting of reality of his future laid out in front of him.

After hearing stories from other people who had passed on, his reaction wasn't uncommon. Like everyone else, he had to accept the fact he was dead. The first few months were the hardest for him as he struggled to come to terms with his new life, or rather his death. Or was it both? Even now, still felt unreal to him. It was like he had fallen into a deep sleep and was caught in an eternal dream, but then again, maybe that was what death was supposed to feel like?

Of course, in terms of an afterlife, the Land of the Dead really wasn't that bad. Far from it fact. For the most part, it was a lot like still being alive.

Throughout the busy district, skeletons walked the streets and browsed the shops, just as they done in their own lifetimes. They behaved almost exactly like regular people did. Talking, moving, working, laughing, arguing, socialising, sleeping. Some even still eating and drinking. They appeared so casual, you would swear they didn't even know they were dead. It so many ways, this world was still like the Land of the Living. The only difference was that everyone just seemed that little bit happier here.

Dante trailing behind him, Miguel walked along the stone pavement of the street, which were lined with an assortment of all kinds of buildings and shops, hands in his pocket and his guitar slung along his back, passing numerous other skeletons. No one really paid him any mind. He was no different than the rest of them now. Just another soul taking his place as a resident in the last great destination

Just as they were passing by the window of a nearby bakery, Miguel slowly came to a halt and took a moment to examine his face in the glass. It had been a while since he had seen his own reflection. Pulling down his hood, he grimaced slightly. Even now it was still hard to get used to.

At best, he was reminded of the face paint he wore when he trying to disguise himself when he first arrived. Only now the fat of his skin was gone, making his face more gaunt-like. He's nose was also gone, leaving nothing but a black triangle in the centre of his face. He kept his hair, though he soon found out he could remove it if he wanted, making more of wig. His ears were also gone, the sides of head now flat and smooth as the skull that had been underneath his entire life

He raised his bony hand up to touch his right cheek, or rather, where his cheek used to be. Now it was nothing but a hollow point that ran along his jaw up to his cheek bones that jutted in a pointed manner. Miguel sighed, staring at his hollowed face with a kind of longing. He never realised how much he missed his dimple.

He tapped at the black triangle in the centre of his face that was once his whole nose. The weirdest part was, despite not having a nose, ears or a tongue, he could still smell, hear, taste and touch even though he was literally nothing but bones.

It was at that moment, Dante jumped up beside Miguel and put his paws on the window. He then proceeded to mush his entire face into the glass panel, his tongue smearing the window with his saliva as he seemed think he could actually reach some of the pastry visible on the other side of the glass. Miguel was quickly brought out of his reprieve, as he couldn't help but chuckle at Dante's antics.

"Hey, hey!" yelled the shopkeeper, poking his head out of the front door of his building. "Get away from that you!"

Knowing all too well to expect Dante to cause him some trouble, Miguel was quick to respond as he and Dante darted down the street, running away from the angry clerk who started to give chase. Reaching edge of an overhanging bridge, Miguel hopped over the railing and landed on the titled rooftop below it. Miguel then slide down the rooftop and climbed down a street sign handing on the side of the building, before jumping off and landing firmly on a solid street once again. A moment later Dante's body smacked into the ground beside Miguel, his wings still fluttering, apparently not having worked in this particular instance. He soon got back to his feet, uninjured and full of enthusiasm as always.

Miguel glanced up to the street they had just left, which that ran directly adjacent to one they were on now. Looking around, this street appeared to be virtually identical as the one above it as well.

Even after months of traversing this world, it still felt like an endless maze. It had taken nearly this long for Miguel just to get a general sense of direction. Everything in this word was almost constantly changing, expanding and re-arranging, as the more souls would arrive daily. If someone needed a new home, they just built on top of the old ones, like a tower of bricks. When new roads were needed, they just seemed to materialise by themselves between the towers of buildings. Structures of all shapes, sizes and distortions that couldn't possibly exist in the real world.

Miguel was never really sure if there were actual skeleton workers that did all this, or if it just happened on its own. The Land of the Dead seemed to be provide only what they needed, but nothing more than that. After all, nobody here was going anywhere

"Come on, boy" Miguel said, turning left and heading down a steep slope. "It's not much further"

After walking for another ten minutes, Miguel and Dante finally arrived at the destination; the entrance of a large market area, that was lined up with vegetable, fruits and other food stalls, underneath a rooftop of tarps. Miguel and Dante walked along the narrow and winding gaps between the stalls, following a familiar path they had taken before. Of course, Miguel wasn't able to make it more than two feet at any given time without having to drag Dante away from any that looked even remotely edible to him.

Eventually they spotted what they were looking for. Near the back of the market place, was a fruit stand that appeared to be operating out of the entrance to small house behind it. The stand had three benches, lined with boxes filled with a multitude of different fruits. Behind the main stall, was a large skeleton, wearing an oversized apron and some oddly baggy clothing. Miguel always had the impression that he must have been a lot heavier when he was alive. But that was yet another pleasant surprise about being skeletons. No more weight problem.

"Okay, time to get into character boy" he whispered to Dante, who chopped his lips in response.

Loosening up his shoulders, Miguel hunched his back slightly and put as pitiful face he could make, as he shuffled his feet toward the fruit stand. On cue, Dante lowered his ears and hanged his head down low, walking with a limb in his step and whine.

Together, they approached the stall, the vendor still too busy categorising some of his fruit to notice them.

"S-s-senor?" Miguel choked out, in a soft and small voice. "May I please have some tomatillos?"

The vendor glanced up at Miguel with a derisive scowl, not the least moved by his dishevelled appearance.

"Does this look a buffet?" he said coldly. He pulled out a knife from the inside of his apron and started to peal one of his apples. "Come back when you got some money, eh?"

"I-I-I have some m-money right here, Senor" Miguel said, shivering, his voice on the edge of breaking. With shaking hands, he held out the coffee can to the man, with hope and desperation in his eyes. "Please, t-take a look"

"I don't need your trinkets" the man scoffed. "I got real customers to take care, so get out of here before I call somebody"

"I know don't have much, but please it must be worth something. It's for my Alebrije Dante". Miguel gestured to Dante, who let a heart wrenching whining sound, his eyes like dinner plates.

"How about you and your mutt go eat out of the garbage, huh?" the vendor snapped, waggling his knife at Miguel, his patience clearly running thin.

"Please, Senor" Miguel sniffled, in a very pathetic manner. "Please, just let me have something, anything. I'm wasting away". Miguel pulled up his hoodie and shirt, revealing his spine and rib cage. "I'm nothing but bone"

The vendor stabbed his knife down into the wooden bench and glaring dangerous at Miguel, his lips curled up into a snarl. He looked to be on the verge of yelling, when, out of nowhere, he dropped his grim exterior and let out a robust laugh, slamming his hand down on the fruit stand.

"That the best you can do?" he chortled, unable to contain himself any longer. "Oh! Nothing! Nothing but bone!"

The performance now over, Miguel straightened up again and laughed along with the vendor skeleton. Dante dropped his puppy dog expression and went back to sticking his tongue out with enthusiasm

"Hola, Senor Hernandez" Miguel greeted casually

"Hola, Ricardo" Hernandez greeted back to Miguel. "I think the routine is getting better. Reminds of the days when I was alive, and I turned away real starving children"

Hernandez laughed again, caught up in his reminisces, but his grin soon faded, when he noticed Miguel giving him a questionable look.

"Uh, I'm mean, they weren't _really_ starving" he said quickly. "Probably little malnourished, but I'm sure someone feed them…eventually and, uh….er…do you have something to buy or not?!"

Miguel chuckled as Hernández flustered expression quickly turned to genuine frustration. "Si, Senor Hernandez. Here". No more foreplay, Miguel handed the coffee can over to Hernandez, who eyed the contents with interest before emptying them out on the stall.

"Huh, let's see" he said, shifting through the assortment of coins with his index finger. "Two 12th century Maravedi coins. About six peseta worth's of centimos, a couple of Real de a Ocho. Four silver escudos. I don't even know what this one is". He held up a small gold coin with a square hole in the middle of it and lined markings along the sides.

"And this one is-hey, hey!" Hernandez glanced from his counting and noticed Dante hungrily salivating over some fresh mangos. Miguel quickly put his arms around Dante's neck to restrain, giving Hernandez a nervous smile.

"He licks it, you buy it" Hernandez warned. He returned to appraisal of the coin collection, until finally he appeared to have come a conclusion to its valuation.

"All in all," he said, in a tone that gave the impression of being heavily unimpressed. "I'd say they earn you about…...three pears"

"What?" Miguel said, with mock indignation, having fully expecting Hernandez to try and haggle him out of a good deal. "Oh, come on, that's at least five pears, three tomatillos and two carambolas"

"Hey, my stall, my rules, kid" Hernandez said, with a bloated sense of ego to his words. "You don't like it, hustle somebody else"

"I would but nobody else around here sells any fresh carambolas but you"

"Well, bad news" Hernandez said, shrugging. "I happen to be fresh out of carambola today"

Miguel's smile vanished as soon as he heard this. "You don't have any at all?" he said, deflating.

"Sorry, kid" he said, though not totally unsympathetic. "Supply and demand"

Miguel grunted in frustration and turned his back to Hernandez, leaning up against the stall. This turn of events was clearly not how he wanted things to go. Hernandez appeared to regret having disappointed him.

"Hey, look how about I give you some tomatillos. On the house" he added, it in an attempt to cheer Miguel up, though it seemed like the mere sound of his words tasted wrong from inside his mouth.

"Thought this wasn't a buffet?" Miguel replied, clearly uninterested, glancing back at Hernandez

"Come on, I need to sell something today!"

"Actually, as a matter of fact, you don't"

Hernandez rolled his eyes as his wife emerged from the entrance of the house behind their stall, carrying a large crate of fruit in her arms.

"Hola, Ricardo" she said pleasantly to Miguel.

"Hola" Miguel replied back, half-heartedly.

"You know don't we don't really need money anymore" Mrs Hernandez said to her husband. She picked up one of the old coins to emphasis her point. "Money is dead, just like everything else here"

"Who ever heard of a running a business without having to make money?" Hernandez said irritably. "What a joke"

"Well, I think it' wonderful" Mrs Hernandez said, setting down the crate she was carrying, beginning to take out the fruits and placing them in their respective baskets. "We can just focus on what we love doing, without having to worry about earning a living anymore". Mrs Hernandez paused while Miguel and her husband stared at her. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Yes, I know. I said. Make all the puns you like" she said, giving an airy wave of her hand.

"I spent my whole life selling fruit and now I spend my whole death doing the same" Hernandez said. "I mean, I love my fruits and my work. But it doesn't really feel the same unless I'm getting paid like I used to. Not like the rest of these imbéciles ".

Hernandez brandished his hand at the surrounding stalls with disgust. "Half of them give their stuff away for free. No charge at all! Since they don't need the money, they don't care what they get in return!"

Miguel understood what he meant. Another interesting thing he noticed in the Land of the Dead was that while people still had jobs here, the concept of money was different. Here, people only really carried or exchanged money purely for the nostalgia. Another remnant of the world they left behind. Material wealth had no real weight anymore. Even the most well-off skeletons lived better only because of how well they were remembered in their previous life.

Hernandez grabbed a handful of Miguel's coins and let them drop back to the bench. "This kind of stuff is no better than a bottle cap collection. It takes away some of the excitement, you know"

"You complain all you like, but as far I'm concerned, it's a big improvement" Mrs Hernandez said, nodding her head knowingly. "What was money anyway but pieces of metal. Anything can have value as long you put value in it."

Mrs Hernández walked back around the other side of the stall, next to her husband, bending forward to move some fruits into another crate. A mischievous grin formed on Hernandez face as stare at his wife's bent over posture, a dangerous thought strayed into his mind. Giving Miguel a quick wink, Hernandez stretched his arm out toward his wife's skirt and pinched something underneath, causing her to jump up and yelp in surprise

"You're right. Anything can have value in it if I put the value in it, right Ricardo!" Hernandez nudged Miguel with his elbow, laughing uproariously, slamming his hand on the bench again. Miguel didn't laugh and could only feign a nervous, half-hearted grin back at Hernandez, certainly not having the wherewithal to share in his sense of humour. That, and he was also more concerned with how Mrs Hernandez was going to respond to her husband's bold act.

And as expected, she did not appear the least bit amused. Without saying a single word, she marched over to her husband and grabbed him firmly by the arm he had pinched her with, which immediately made him cease in his chuckling, as he looked into wife's angry face with a mixture of surprise and fear. With a solid snap, she pulled his entire arm off out from his shoulder socket as easily as if she had taken off a hat.

Miguel winched painfully at the sight of this and unconsciously tucked his own arms between his elbows

"Hey-hey-hey, nonononono" Mr Hernandez stuttered in panic, as he tried to grab his arm back with his remaining one. "Isabella, I need that!"

"You get this back when I say you do" she said, waving his dismembered arm in the air, as it desperately tried to each out to its owner. Mrs Hernandez kicked open a nearby crate and tossed the arm inside, closing it shut. The arm scratched helplessly on the wood, looking as pitiful as caged animal. Hernandez glance down at his remaining arm, with a very disgruntled look, knowing that he'd now have to do the rest of his work with only the one arm.

"Never get find yourself a girl Ricardo" he grumbled to Miguel. "You'll find your whole life gets turned upside down"

"Afterlife you mean" Miguel replied dryly, resting his chin on the stall

"Aye, it is always sad when you have to die so young" Mrs Hernandez said, her angry disappearing and her expression changing to one of empathy as she regarded Miguel. She reached out and put a gentle hand under his chin, lifting up his head slightly. "Twelve years old is too soon for anyone to die"

"How did you die again, Ricardo?" Hernandez asked, as that happened to be an extremely casual question for someone in their position. At the sound of this question, Dante finally took his eyes off the fruit he had been ogling and looked up to Miguel,

"I…fell" Miguel said finally, avoiding Hernandez eyes and staring at a nearby bushel of apples. "Down a well. A deep well" he added.

"Was it like an instant death or did it drag out?" Hernandez asked unabashedly, not finding that line of inquiry to be the least inappropriate

"It went black as soon as it happened" Miguel said, hoping to deflect the topic. "I don't remember anything. Next thing, I just wake up here"

"While, don't you worry, Ricardo" Mrs Hernandez said, smiling happily. "Tomorrow night is Dia de los Muertos. It'll be your first time at one and the first time you get to visit your family

If Mrs Hernandez thought that this would cheer Miguel up, she was indeed mistaken. At the mere mention of words, 'Dia de los Muertos', Miguel's melancholy mood soured even further. His fists clenched up, and his brow furrowed, as he felt angry rising in his stomach, or least where he used to have a stomach.

"We'll be visiting our own family" Hernandez said, his own disposition now brightening up again at the prospect of seeing his family again. "Plus, we'll be doing our annual resupply to our families own shop. Hey, if you come with us Ricardo, we might let you have some carambolas, eh?"

"He doesn't need to come with us" Mrs Hernandez snapped angrily at her husband. She turned back to Miguel with a loving smile again. "Ricardo will be visiting his own family. I'm sure he can't wait to see them again"

That's when it finally snapped.

"I'm not going to visit my family" Miguel said coldly.

Both Hernandez and his wife exchanged a surprised look with each other, shocked both by Miguel's reaction and what he had said.

"What?" Mrs Hernandez said, almost sounding hurt. "Don't you have any?"

"Your parents must still be alive, right?" Hernandez said, just as taken back as his wife. "Surely they'll put out your photo on their ofrenda?"

"Yeah, well maybe they will, maybe they won't. I'm not going to check" Miguel said, his frustration becoming more and more transparent. "I don't care if I'm some stupid ofrenda or not"

"How can you say?" Mrs Hernandez said, now sounding truly shocked by Miguel's words. "That's your family you're talking about. If they don't put one up, you can't cross over. Doesn't matter to you?"

"Look, I _don'_ t want to talk about it!" Miguel snapped, pushing himself away from the stall. "Go see your own family and stay out of my business!". Glaring angrily at the Hernandezes, who were thoroughly stunned by his outburst, Miguel grabbed a pear and tomato off the stand and stuffed them into his pocket.

"Keep the money" he said coldly to Hernandez, turning his back on him. "Come on, Dante"

Dante's ear dropped low at the anger in Miguel's voice, but nevertheless followed after his master, while Mr Hernandez and Mrs Hernandez watched the boy they knew as Ricardo march off.

Leaving the market place, Miguel continued to wander forward through the labyrinths of bizarrely shaped building. As walked however, he felt his anger begin to subside, replacing itself with a stronger sense of guilt. He felt bad for snapping at the Hernandezes like that, because he knew they had always been kind to him whenever he visited. But a more pressing concern for him was the whether or not he may have given too much away during that encounter. Hernandez didn't know Miguel's real name. He had to maintain the appearance that he was just a normal (relatively speaking) dead boy so that no one would ever realise who he really was; the little boy who came from the Land of the Living a year ago. The last he needed was that kind of attention, knowing full well who it would attract.

Sighing again, disappointed by the days events, Miguel turned into a darkened alley, followed close behind by Dante. Without breaking his pace, Miguel hopped up onto an old box and onto dumpster. He then jumped upwards, grabbing the lowest rung of an emergency ladder hanging over head and effortlessly pulled himself as he began to climb. He still couldn't believe how easy it was. He figured it was because his body was so light now.

Dante clambered up the dumpster after Miguel and managed to hook his legs into the ladder, and jumped up, allowing him to reach the metal platform of the fire escape.

Reaching the roof top of the apartment building, at least five stories off the ground, Miguel walked along the edge of the roof as casually as if he was walking on a sidewalk, unperturbed by the sheer drop on the other side. When they reached a gap between the buildings, Miguel hopped over to the next one as easily as if he had just jumped over a muddle of water on the road.

He continued to traverse along the edge of the roof, literally hopping one foot at a time on the stone bricks, not feeling the least bit of fear. When he was alive, Miguel would have definitely felt afraid at such a height, knowing he would be injured or killed if he fell, but he didn't need to worry over falling. The worst-case scenario would be that he'd break his guitar and spend at least an hour reassembling all his bones

Now that he was dead, he longer had to be afraid of dying. Or at least, dying in the traditional anyway. It was an odd feeling and another quirk about being dead Miguel had a hard time adjusting to. He was more or less beyond mortal injury anymore. Miguel imagined that a lot of other people would relish in this kind of immortality, but he couldn't help but feel like it robbed him of some of the thrill by negating the risk of death.

After a while, Miguel finally came to stop at rooftop that had a good view he was satisfied with. From here, he could see almost the whole city of the dead, gleaming out across over the horizon, the sun hanging low in the sky. Miguel wasn't even sure there was a horizon here at all; everything about this world seemed to always just be. He sighed and took a seat on the edge of the roof, slumping shoulders and resting his arms on his knees. Dante lay down beside him, resting his head on Miguel's lap.

Miguel couldn't help but smiled at Dante's act of compassion and loyalty, gently patting him on the dead. No matter what he had been through since he arrived here, Dante had remained by his side. Along with his music, it was one of the only comforts he had left. He pulled out the pear he had taken from the stall from his pocket. Dante immediately spring back to his feet, patting in excitement. Miguel briefly baited him with the fruit and then tossed it half way over to the other side of the roof. Dante leapt up in the air and using his wings to carry him forward, he caught the pear in his mouth. But only for a second. His wings then seem to give up again while still in the air, causing him to crash back onto the roof again in a loud clatter.

Miguel smiled again as he watched Dante happily scarf down the pear. Turning back to the open to the street below, Miguel pulled out the tomato he had taken, turning it over in his hands several times. He knew he could eat it if he wanted, but then again, it was hard to feel hungry without a stomach.

Another thing he had found it strange to cope with was the sudden lack of an appetite. Everyone here could still eat and drink if they wanted to. But just like with the usage of money, it was really more a nostalgia than anything else. In the Land of the Living, you eat not only for the pleasure but because you'd die of starvation otherwise. Here you could eat as much as you like and never get fat. Some might call that a blessing, but Miguel had found that food loses its appeal without the hunger to go with it.

Now he could go weeks and weeks without having to eat all. Like everyone else, he only did it for that familiar sensation of eating. He could still taste the tomato in his mouth. Despite not having a tongue and taste buds, he could still feel a sensation of flavour inside his mouth. It was like a kind of phantom taste. It was there and not there at the same time. Then again, he shouldn't have really be able to talk without his tongue either, but he was beyond actual biology at this point in his life.

It was those things like fear of death and pain of hunger that would make him yearn for the Land of the Living again. To feel those kinds of things again but know that they were real and a sign that he was truly alive.

This place was far from a nightmare or what some people think of as Hell, but it wasn't a perfect paradise either. At best, it really was just an imitation of life again, though without most of the physical limitations of what was needed to stay alive. And yet, this in itself was a limitation of being a part of this world.

Miguel sighed and set the tomato down, turning his attention back to street below, seeing droves of skeletons walk on by without a real concern in the world. And that was when he spotted it. On the upper corner of the building in front of him, was the poster, advertising Ernesto de la Cruz's next performance, tomorrow night during Dia de los Muertos Miguel glowered his eyes as he read the words sprawled on the poster.

" _When you see your moment, you must not let it pass you by! You must seize it!"_

Those words filled Miguel with nothing but contempt and hatred that rivalled the feelings of rage he had felt when Mrs Hernandez mentioned his family to him. He stared at the oversized poster of De la Cruz plastered over the sign. The face of the man Miguel once loved as his idol, the man whom he believed more than anything was his great-great-grandfather. The man whom he thought was the source of his own musical talent that set him apart from the rest of his family.

With as much force as he could muster, Miguel flung the tomato in his hands and watched as the red orb exploded on contact with the solid billboard, the liquid inside splattering all over Cruz's perfect and majestic face, ruining its splendour.

Miguel smirked, satisfied by his work. The mere sight of it was another one of the few comforts that he had

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Was pretty happy with how it turned out.**

 **One thing I enjoyed doing was being able to touch upon on how some things may work in the Land of the Dead. We don't get too many rules established in the movie. For example, if people have jobs in the Land of the Dead, then do they have money as well? My idea was that they do, but it's all "dead" currency, just like the fact that all the technology we see in the movie are outdated. I actually looked up some old currencies that are no longer used**

 **It also worked well because I was able to establish how Miguel would be adjusting to life(death) in the LotD. From his perspective, we discuss how things like food and money may work, as well as how people in the LotD may choose to pass their time, as they don't have many of the same concerns in the afterlife as do when living. Like, if you didn't have money to buy food, its not like you would starve to death. That would actually solve a lot of problems, but also create new problems as well. The idea is that, while it's not a bad place, the Land of the Dead is really just an imitation of real life, rather than real life itself and it would be interesting to see some of these implications**

 **Anywho, hoped you like the chapter and if you enjoyed it, please leave a review or favourite, and I'll see you next time.**

 **Peace out**


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